


TF2 Snow Fluff One Shots/Drabbles -- Mann. Vs Machine. [TAKING REQUESTS/PROMPTS]

by Palus_Hiemalis



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Adorable, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Drabble, Drabbles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mann vs. Machine, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Sharing Body Heat, Snow, Snowball Fight, Winter, everyone is fighting robots but mostly they're being adorable, father son nonsense, its gonna be tropey as hell i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palus_Hiemalis/pseuds/Palus_Hiemalis
Summary: A bunch of fluff drabbles taking place in the snowy map of the Mann Vs. Machine trailer, because god damn I love snow and I love nice boys being nice together. (And there’s all nine of them because ??? yes.)I’m taking requests on this one, give me your nice boys being nice scenarios. Romance, bonding or just fun etc.
Relationships: Engineer/Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 67





	1. Spy & Scout -- Wrap Up Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy insists Scout wear layers before leaving to patrol the perimeter...

“Non.”  
Scout was staring daggers into Spy as he blocked the door.  
“Whaddya’ mean no? I’m gonna’ go patrol the perimeter, that’s my job, dummy.”  
Spy stepped in front as Scout tried muscling past, and then quickly gave up. They went toe to toe for the doorway but Spy had the height advantage. He grew tired of the game and barred it with both arms.  
“What’s the big idea?!”  
“You cannot go out dressed like… zhat.”  
Scout snorted, “I wear this every day, Spy. And, hey, the girlies seem to like it so--”  
Spy shoved something into his chest. It was a jacket, a big puffy one and there was a scarf, chunky and patterned with the symbol of their team.  
“You cannot go out into the snow without layers, boy. I saw you zhis morning, your nose was running like a tap.”  
Scout glowered back, pointing at his undershirt long sleeves, “I got sleeves, dingus, I’m toasty as, uhh, toast. And I’ll be joggin’, I’m fine.”  
He folded his arms and looked down at him, “Wear it.”  
“Quit actin’ like my dad, old man.” He snarled, attempting to push past again.  
“Stop acting like a child.”  
Scout elbowed him in the ribs and sniffed, “Whatever. I don’t need no stinkin’ scarf, I’ll be runnin’ so fast around this base Engie’s gonna’ heat the place with my ripped, sweaty bod’!”  
Scout started to disappear into the foggy night, flecks of snow landing on his hat and shoulders.  
Spy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Your mother made it.”  
Scout stopped in his tracks. He turned on his heel and marched right up to him.  
“What did you say?” His voice was cold.  
“It arrived this morning by courier whilst you were doing your morning patrol, I took the liberty signing for it.”  
He paused and eyed it. It was soft, the yarn was big and there were a few mistakes here and there, the tassels at the end were uneven but it was the thought that counts.  
“Gimme that.” Scout snatched the scarf out his hands and knotted it around his neck before racing away without looking back.

Spy chuckled to himself and walked back into the lounge they’d set up. It was the only carpeted room in the building and it had a fireplace, too. All the mercenaries ended up there to hog the heat. They’d dragged in three ratty looking sofas, an old crate for a coffee table and found a busted small t.v. that the engineer was trying to resuscitate.  
“Vhy did Spy lie to leetle man? Courier cannot make it all the vay out to abandoned buildings...”  
Heavy was lying across one of the sofas, his weight making the bottom buckle. He was distracted as he was knitting yet another scarf to the crackle of the fire…


	2. Pyro/Engineer -- Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engi works out in the snow late into the night and wakes Pyro up...

There was a distant dinging, and it was keeping Pyro up. He reluctantly pushed off his blankets, it must’ve been around midnight. He yawned and he crawled over to the bedside window and pressed his ear against the glass. It was freezing without his mask on.  
Ding. Ding. Ding.  
It was only barely muffled by the biting wind. It couldn’t have been a robot, according to intel, they had a good few hours before the next wave. Unless they’d left one behind?  
It was bothering him either way.  
He crept out into the hall, hopping into his boots and zipping up his suit. It had a nice fluffy collar to it and was lined with retardant fleece. He stretched his mask over his face until it fit snugly. No one else seemed to be bothered by the noise, only Scout was up in the kitchen, chugging eggnog from the carton.  
He asked about the noise with a series of gestures before Scout told him it was nothing and to go back to sleep. Probably just a sign banging in the wind.  
Pyro stomped away and out into the snow, he hated how Scout always sounded out the words like he was dumb. He wasn’t dumb. He was going to check out the noise and shove a stupid robot head in his face the next morning to prove it.

The wind gouged the valley, shaping the snow into smooth, white mounds. Pyro thought it looked like sugar. His boots left trenches as he trudged against the gale. He didn’t mind the cold, the suit kept him warm. It shut out fire as easily as sub-zero temperatures.  
Ding. Ding. Ding.  
The sound was coming from down hill, past the train crossing and into the dark. Everything from there on was obscured by tall pine trees and a whole lot of nothing. The path became clearer when he noticed tracks. The same lumbering heavy boot tracks he was making. He followed them past some trees. There was a strange shadow, someone was hunched over a hunk of metal, bashing it and cursing under their breath. Pyro stepped closer.  
The dinging stop.  
He heard a click. A figure pointed a shotgun to his chest. Pyro held his hands up, trying not to look scary.  
“Pyro? Whatcha’ doin’ out here boy?!” The engineer dropped his gun and laughed in relief.  
He scrabbled for a lamp that was half buried in snow and cast a light across them. Engi was fixing up a sentry, one hidden between some trees to catch out bots’ before they arrived. He was in a bomber jacket over his overalls, but he was still shivering all over. His ungloved hand looked red and numb.  
Pyro took up the wrench and gently tapped on the sentry to make a ding so he got the idea.  
“You just wanted to check up on the ruckus? Can’t say I blame ya’.”  
Pyro beckoned him back, the sentry looked like it was mostly up and running.  
“I don’t know, I still got to make a few check ups, son…”  
Pyro took his hand in his gloves and rubbed warmth into them, he titled his head in concern.  
The engineer laughed and looked redder in his face, “Aw’ hell, you convinced me. I’m not doin’ anything essential…”  
As he picked up his tool box, Pyro tugged on his other hand. It was dark out, and Pyro was used to navigating through smoke and rugged terrain, usually made hazardous by his own doing, in fairness. He wasn’t going to let Engi walk all the way back on his own.  
He laughed as Pyro pulled him forward, “Alright, alright, I’ma comin.’”  
They followed Pyro’s tracks all the way back to the base. He was hauling him uphill, though the Engineer could see just fine with his lamp. The wind was dying down, thankfully. Flakes of snow dipped in and out of the lamp light as they approached the main door. 

“You can, uh, let go of my hand there’, son.”  
Pyro dropped his hand as he realised how long he’d been pulling his friend up hill. But he soon ushered him into the empty kitchen. Engi sat down on a rickety chair as Pyro busied himself around the kettle. He was going to warm them both up.  
He pointed a finger at him as he asked him what he was doing out there anyway, it was freezing, he could’ve gotten frostbite!  
“What was I doin’ out there…. Bein’ a fool, I reckon.” he sighed, “Listen, this stays between you and me, Pardner. I ain’t afraid to die, I don’t listen to that administrator when she says we ought to say our prayers when each new wave starts up. But we’re a long way from home… I don’t want to meet my maker here, you understand? I couldn’t nigh on sleep knowin’ I could set up some extra defence on the way to base...”  
Pyro nodded as he waited for the old gas stove to fire up and heat the water.  
“Where’s home for you, son? If you don’t mind me askin’...”  
Pyro leaned up against the stove and thought for a moment, he then shrugged, turning back to pour out the water into stained old mugs.  
“Say no more.” He sighed and rubbed his hands together. In truth his metal hand ached like hell. The cold was seeping through from the metal attachment to the skin. It was painful, and he should’ve thought about it when drawing up the prototype. He’d have to fix that if they ever got out of here.  
Pyro put a mug in front of the Engineer and mumbled something that sounded like ‘drink up’.  
“Now, I weren’t expectin’ cocoa…” he smiled. All they’d drunk here was crappy beer and crappier coffee. Pyro must’ve had a sweet stash somewhere in the base; everyone knew he was fond of candy.  
Pyro cupped the mug in his hand and enjoyed the hot tingle of the china through his gloves. Engi copied him, taking off his glove and letting the metal of his prosthetic heat up. He clinked his mug against Pyro’s and took a deep sip.  
Pyro tilted his head to inquire whether it was okay. It was so hot it scalded his tongue, but he didn’t care. It was sweet and rich and he felt the warmth spread all over his shivering body.  
“I think I needed that.” he said quietly, blowing on the cup to cool it slightly.  
Pyro looked back on him, he tended to act like a mother-hen when one of the team mates was sick or battered up. It was nice to have someone watching your back, even if the team acted tough when he offered them painkillers or blankets. He did admit he made some mean chicken soup.  
He’d probably drink the cocoa alone in his room. Engi didn’t mind. He took another drink and put his hand on Pyro’s glove which was resting on the table.  
“Thanks for rescuin’ me.”  
Pyro perked up a little and looked about himself before mumbling that it was no problem, and he’d always be there for his Engineer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (What I like about the ships in this fandom is that they often reflect the gameplay. Pyro spy checks for engineer and reflects bombs and rockets away from machines, engi keeps him stock up with continuously draining ammo. Its really cute. I think Pyro would be the mom of the team.)


	3. Scout/Sniper implied -- Snow War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggestion by MerFairy, Scout encourages and teaches sniper to play in the snow.

Sniper shoved his hands in his pockets. The fingerless gloves were not enough for a job out here. It was twilight and the wind wasn’t getting any warmer on the back of his neck. He was wearing a duster, a hoodie he’d swiped from the laundry, a jacket, a shirt, a bandana across the face and two pairs of socks. But it wasn’t helping. He would have to ask Heavy for one of those bloody scarves.  
He was on watch until sun down, but he wouldn’t make his way down from the look-out point on the roof until the ankle-biter was back from patrol. He squinted down the sights to the rail-crossing. No sign yet. Grumbling, he pulled down his hat and wriggled into the hard crate he was sitting on. He was literally freezing his arse off.  
Snow gusted past him on the wind, swirling in and out of the lamplight below. It was far too bloody cold. He couldn’t focus; his ears were singed with the bitter wind and he had to rock back and forth to keep his circulation going. Normally he wasn’t this riled up, but the cold was getting to him. He sighed and put down his rifle to rub his hands together, the boy was a half hour late and he was going to kill him. He was going to spend every second he was late fantasising about how he would put a bullet between his eyes. That would show the boy for making him spend a single minute longer on this god forsaken roof...

And then he heard laughter.  
He snatched up his rifle, setting his sights south-east of his position. There he was, the little twitchy bastard…  
Scout was building up a lump of snow in front of him, ducking and bobbing out the way of snow being chucked at him. Soldier was a few metres away, cramming snow into his fists and pummelling the scout from his own, rather shoddy, snow bunker. 

“You will surrender, son, or so help me, you’ll be twinkle-toes on ice!”  
Scout was giving him a devious grin between ducking under his make-shift cover, “You wish, bucket-head, I’m gonna show you how we play ball out in Boston!”  
“Pft, Boston is about as real as your chances of victory!” He yelled, unflinching as he took a snowball straight to the helmet.

Sniper leapt up from his post and leaned over the south side of the building.  
“WHAT ARE YOU TWO GIGGLING ON ABOUT?!”

They both froze in place, with Soldier giving a smug chuckle, probably revelling in the fact that Scout was in trouble.  
“Yo, chill out, we were havin’ a snowball fight, you ain’t ever had a snowball fight, old man?”  
Sniper stuck his head out over the side, his voice cracking from frustration, “YOU MEAN YOU DIDN’T REPORT BACK AND I COULD’VE BEEN OFF THIS ROOF THE WHOLE BLOODY TIME?!”  
“Calm down, Snipes, your shift ended like an hour ago--”  
“AND WE AGREED-- oh bloody Nora--” Sniper stopped shouting and began to climb down the side ladder on the building. Cursing under his breath with every cold metal rung.  
He dragged himself through the now knee high snow right up to Scout who was throwing and catching a snowball on his side of the ‘battleground.’  
“You are an irresponsible little git!”  
“Listen, man, I just forgot to--” Scout was about to run his mouth when Soldier hit him across the cheek with a snowball.  
“Will you cream-puffs stop your panty-knotting party?! What’s a man gotta do to be honorably pelted with balls of snow around here?”  
Sniper turned, ready to strangle Soldier when he was also interrupted by a snowball to the forehead. He stood there speechless for a minute before Scout tugged on his long coat and dragged him down behind the snow wall he’d made.  
“C’mon, loosen up, let’s dominate this bozo.”

The pull took him by surprise. He flopped onto his knees without resistance and watched Scout chuckle to himself as he ducked for cover. His anger petered out looking at the boy wadding snow into balls and throwing them expertly back at Soldier. He didn’t really get how he just shrugged this all off; he’d just come back from checking there wasn’t another wave on the way, Sniper had spent his shift with anxiety gnawing deep in hist guts.  
He didn’t really know how this snowballing all worked; were there rules? Or just a free for all? He’d not really had a chance to feel the snow in his gloves. It was powdery, but it clumped together with a squashing sound. And it sparkled. All these days fighting tin-cans and he’d never stopped to touch the stuff, hell, he’d never seen snow before he’d come here.  
“Sniper!” Scout punched him on the shoulder, waking him up from his thoughts, “Make snowballs, dummy, then pass em’ over. I’ll show you how its done.”

Sniper tucked himself behind the cover and tentatively packed the snow together in his palm to make snowballs as Soldier retaliated once more; they were sort of sloppy, but Scout didn’t seem to care. He scooped them up and rained them down on Soldier’s head.  
“Snipes -- we need more ammo. Get to it.” Snout hollered, squirelling snowballs between the two of them, “Its gonna’ be round two any minute now…”  
Soldier was busying himself with his new genius idea of an igloo to hide in, comparing it to fort knox inside of another fort knox as his voice got progressively more muffled. Soon he was practically buried in a heap with a pair of arms sticking out and ready to aim.  
“Hold on, mate, my fingers are gettin’ numb…” He fumbled to rub his hands on his trousers.  
Scout rolled his eyes, he grabbed Sniper’s hands and puffed on them,  
“My Mom used to do this when I was a kid, it keeps the circulat-tation goin’.” Scout grinned, he seemed pretty proud of his big word so Sniper kept the pronunciation to himself.  
“Uh, much appreciated…” Sniper took his hands back and flexed his fingers. 

With a screech from the other side, a clumsy hail of snowballs began as Soldier blindly chucked scoops of snow from his corner. One pelted the window behind them and soon after Heavy poked his head out the back door,  
“What is happened?”  
Soldier popped out the snow from the top of his snow heap, “We are at snow war, Russky, and you have been drafted!”  
Heavy surveyed the situation, glancing over Soldier, Scout and Sniper peeking back up at him. Giving a sigh and a smile, “Let Heavy put away yarn, then will participate in fun and games.”  
He returned, having put on a flapped hat and scarf. He dumped something over the side of their snow wall before marching over to Soldier’s side.  
“I give you mittens. Then baby coward stopped sniffling and frolic in snow like men.”  
Sniper raised his eyebrows and slipped them on, a little different then his usual gear, but they worked, “Thanks, mate.”

Things heated up after that. Heavy wasn’t much for hitting targets, but he could knock down the wall with just a blow or two. And Soldier made a great commander, directing fire at both their hats for a good distraction.  
Demo came to investigate the noise, stumbling out the back door with a hot toddy in hand. He was joined by Pyro and Engineer who’d been tweaking the central heating system and were dusted with soot from the coal chute.  
“What are you laddies up to--?”  
Demo didn’t get to finish his sentence before Heavy landed a shot straight to his face. He wiped off the excess snow with his sleeve and he scowled back.  
Engineer looped an arm around both of his companions in the doorway, “Y’all don’t have to tell me twice, giddy up, boys!”

There were now three teams all battling for supremacy. Sniper and Scout had the upper hand for landing shots, and Sniper soon took the initiative to aim right for the eyes and any exposed skin. But Soldier and Heavy were unstoppable, and Engineer’s team had sheer enthusiasm on their side. Engineer had quickly erected an impressive wall, Demo was screaming a long, rambling speech about freedom and Pyro was just happy to be there as he made a little snow unicorn. Everyone was wise enough not to aim for his little creation, and Engineer took a small break to make its own defensive structure to save all their skins from Pyro’s possible retribution.

Sniper was really getting into it now, he felt like a kid again. Except, he wasn’t hiding in a tree chucking pebbles down at his school bullies.  
Sniper was efficiently wadding up snow in the same hand he was throwing them from. He managed to temporarily blind Demo as Engineer struggled to keep up against a barrage from Soldier and Heavy.  
“There ya’ go! We got em’ on the run now!” Scout slapped him on the back as he made some more snowballs for Sniper, who had taken over the aiming.  
“I’m just gettin’ warmed up…” He grinned and knocked Heavy and Soldier down, hearing them groan and thud back into the snow.  
“BLOODY GOT EM’ DIDN’T I?! YEAAAH!” he cheered, jumping up and standing above cover to celebrate. It only took him two seconds to realise his mistake.  
Scout watched as he was pelted from all angles. He toppled backwards next to Scout who was hissing from laughter.

Sniper fell back, panting on the snow; everyone was chuckling now and there was seemingly a ‘ceasefire.’ He watched the flakes flutter down above him. He covered his eyes and laughed. He laughed until he wheezed and coughed and laughed again. He sat there breathing and smiling, feeling the snow land and melt on his exposed face. He hated to admit it, but he needed this.  
The administrator bellowing over the intercom about hoping they all had their affairs in order had been getting to him. He didn’t want to watch anyone get blown to pieces then slapped back together again by the medic, or god forbid, feel himself squirm back into life when it happened to him. He hadn’t been sleeping, he’d been downing coffees and moping around the base. And he hadn’t said a word to any of his colleagues aside from whinging about the chill.  
He slapped his arm around until he found Scout’s shoulder beside him, he hadn’t noticed but he was also bent double laughing, “Thank, seriously, that was… a bloody good time.”  
“No problem, dummy. You gotta’ loosen up sometimes. Not that I care, but make sure ya’ get down from that roof a’yours and join us sometime…”  
“When you remember to let me end my shift, I will.” He grinned, and tugged down the brim of Scout’s hat over his eyes.

The Medic had just opened a back door, likely to yell about dinner but observed the battle scene. He sighed, casualties all round. Every man, except Pyro in his padded suit, was shivering with red faces. Nothing serious, mostly sniffles and numb fingers to sort out for the rest of the evening.  
“You idiots vill get inside zhis instant before you catch a death of cold! Do not let my dinner go to vaste!” He folded his arms in a huff.  
The rest of the team got up and wandered in, tapping boots and shaking off mittens before they entered. It was a rather pathetic roast dinner that evening, but none of them cared. The whiskey was warm and spicy on a big pot on the stove, and they all huddled in the ‘lounge’ under whatever blankets they could find.  
Scout let Sniper have the sofa as he sat on the floor beneath. He chattered away to the rest of the team all night, trying to convince everyone that he and Sniper had won. He hadn’t noticed him start snoring until he’d finally shut his mouth...


	4. Medic/Heavy -- Love Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Medic's doves gets injured after being lost in the snow and Heavy helps him heal her...
> 
> ATalkingJojoDictionary suggested Bird Dad content and honestly I couldn't resist.

When everyone had gone to bed, Heavy took his chance to read Lermontov in the living room. He’d spent the evening chopping wood as his team-mates watched low budget movies on the clunky TV they’d scavenged from the old building. He didn’t enjoy it when everyone talked at once, so he took to pine woods in a big fleecy coat and flap hat to fell more firewood. Luckily there were some deadened trunks he could knock and split into suitable pieces before dragging them home on his back, just as his mother taught him as a child. He was in a hand knitted jumper, with little snowflakes dotting the front in rows. He stoked the fireplace when the room was empty and picked up his collection of poems. The pages were yellowed and the text was frail with wear, he smiled as he thumbed through the pages, it was a well loved book from his university days. He sighed to himself, he deserved this peace that the crackling fire and solitude brought. He put his feet up on the sofa and began to flick through and reacquaint himself with his favourite poems.

This was exactly when the door to the living room flew open on its hinges. Medic had booted it in and was rushing towards Heavy clutching something in his hands like he was terrified of dropping it.  
“Doktor?” he said, sitting up in the chair, hardly having a moment to ask after the man before Medic rushed over to his seat on the sofa.  
The Doctor’s voice was cracked and frantic, “Here. Hold zhis. Dankeschön.”  
In his open palms Medic dumped a plump looking dove. Heavy froze and looked down at the snowy white bird who seemed to droop into his hands like a stuffed toy. Medic clasped his hands about Heavy’s own and gently pressed them together to hold the bird still before guiding them higher and directing Heavy to scoot over so he could join him on the sofa.  
“Please, keep her warm.” Medic said, his brow was knotted with worry.  
Heavy was always terrified of holding small animals, as a kid he’d accidentally crushed a little beetle and never forgiven himself. He only killed when it was necessary, that being he was hired for a sizable sum or when it was soup night and there was no bear in the freezer.  
The little bird seemed sluggish and little damp to the touch, but alive. Heavy held the bird still as Medic produced tweezers, little scissors and a disinfectant from his pockets and onto his lap.  
“Doktor, why am I holding bird?” He asked gently, more concerned for his friend than the bird, “Is bird sick?”  
Medic seemed to be breathing heavily with worry, Heavy only just noticed the sprinkle of snow on his shoulders and the red of his face.  
“I am sorry to be such a bother, zhis little one has been lost for days and I found her outside of the laboratory vindow. She has a netting tangled in his feet and it has caused a wound and she is so, so cold. I just need assistance removing the string from her cuts and zhen I shall leave you be with much gratitude.” The Doctor spoke hurriedly, “It has been hard confining the birds to my infirmary and zhey are desperate to spread zheir wings but it is so cold for them. I usually have a contraption to hold my birds set up for procedures such as zhis, but I forget to bring it to the new base and I do not have a sock to cut up and use as a harness, I mean, I do but I didn’t vant to ruin a perfectly good sock--”  
“Doktor.” Heavy interrupted, “Do not panic. I hold bird. You heal bird.”

Medic paused to catch his breath and adjust his glasses. His eyes were welling up.  
“Yes, yes, you are correct. As always, mein freund.” He smiled weakly and began to tweeze the string off of the dove’s foot. It wriggled in discomfort, it seemed as if the netting had cut deep into its leg. Medic frowned, he didn’t have nearly the same empathy for his patients as he did the little creatures that he kept as constant companions. They weren’t too messy and even seemed to be toilet trained to some capacity. They were content to perch together along shelves or pipes, all puffed up from the cold.

Heavy cleared his throat and tried to sound as gentle as he could. He didn’t want to scare the creature any more than it was in his bear like hands.  
“You are safe, Archimedes…” he mumbled, letting the Doctor delicately unwind the tangle of wiry string on its feet.  
“No, mein Freund, zhis is Hypatia, but I imagine she appreciates zhe tone of your voice.”  
Heavy loved that each of the Doctor’s birds had their own name, let alone that they were named for ancient greek Luminaries. He wondered as to whether he would be open to calling a bird Chekov or Dostoyevsky.  
Heavy brought the little dove closer to his face as the Doctor worked, trying to meet its beady eyes, “You are safe, Hypatia. You are clever gorl, you know Doktor vill keep you safe, da?”  
“With your help, she vill be safe and sound.” he said with a chuckle. 

The Doktor finished his work with a dab of disinfectant and gently scooped the bird back into his arms. Caressing her ruffled feathers with his thumbs.  
“You are home now, engel.” He cuddled the bird close his cheek and Heavy heard it’s pleasant, rumbling coo.  
Medic flopped back down on the sofa and looked timidly over to Heavy, “I know zhey are just birds… but zhey keep me sane.” he spoke almost apologetically.  
Heavy nodded solemnly, “Birdy is important to Doktor, so is important for Heavy and for team.”  
Medic sniffed, holding back a tear, before he leant against Heavy’s shoulder. “Thank you.”  
“Does birdy need healing charge?” he said softly, letting the smaller man’s body cushion against him.  
“Nein,” Medic said in a rattling sigh, letting the exhaustion pour out of him, “My beam is not for birds. She needs varmth and rest..”  
“Much like Doktor.” Heavy said.

Heavy shifted himself to lie back on the sofa and drew Medic onto his front as he cradled Hypatia. He knew the Doktor was a man who loved to be hugged, but was often embarrassed to ask, but with their team mates asleep he could indulge him.  
“You stay with Heavy. Safe and warm.” He said, letting his own head rest against a pillow, “Heavy’s orders.”  
Medic lay flush against him, feeling his giant chest rise and fall with each breath. Hypatia nestled into the crook of Heavy’s shoulder as Medic kicked off his boots and shimmied off his snow-speckled coat onto the floor. He wrapped his arms around Heavy’s chest and snuggled into the sound of his thumping heartbeat.  
Heavy exhaled deeply. The Doktor worked too hard and too late into the night, he needed a good night’s rest. And if the team caught them in the morning, they knew it would be hell to pay if they disturbed them or woke them. Heavy would make sure of it. Heavy thought nothing more of them and ran his fingers through the Doctor’s hair as he pulled Heavy closer. The fire crackled and Hypatia purred from the warmth, Medic hummed happily at his touch. This was the peace he had needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in learning how to de-string feral pigeons, read about the procedure here from Palomacy, a wonderful pigeon rescue charity I've been following and supporting for years.
> 
> https://www.pigeonrescue.org/2018/09/11/destringing-pigeons-freeing-feet-and-opening-minds/#:~:text=Although%20each%20case%20is%20very,unwinding%20fibers%20from%20the%20foot.


	5. Medic/Heavy — Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy has to ignore his wounded Doktor to protect his team and finds something curious in the snow...
> 
> Heads up this starts out a bit sad.
> 
> Genius suggestion by FoolsGoldFenrir

From out the black white flecks flurried past Heavy’s face. He stared out from his position, wincing from the bitter winds; behind him the team was retreating, injured and shaking from the chill. The last of the waves had hit them hard, he could hear Scout scream over the blizzard for help carrying a body, trying to joke with a cracking voice that the Doktor was heavier than he looked.

He heard the hissing click that meant Pyro was out of ammo. The sound of the Engineer salvaging his blasted sentry. Heavy didn’t turn around, he had to guard their retreat to make sure the bloodied, unconscious Doktor would make it home. He could hear them gathering round to haul him through the knee deep snow uphill to the base. He could’ve easily slung him over his shoulder out of the cold. He tried to ignore it. His face stung, his knuckles ached on the cold steel of his weapon and his eyes watered. He would finish off these machines.

A harsh light gaped from the dark and the last of the robots poured out; pyros, scouts, demos. Heavy’s eyes streamed, he told himself it wasn’t as cold as home, he told himself pain was only in his wounds and he’d felt worse. He grit his teeth, pushed forward and roared. All he could see and hear was Sasha’s muzzle flash. The sound of metal piercing metal was deafening, the robots clashed to the ground in piles.

The carrier closed. He was alone left in the howling winds with ringing ears. By now his team mates were likely safely back to base. Except his Doktor. All he had felt in the chaos was a smatter of blood hit his arm and a strangled scream as his dear friend fell to the ground. He knew the best way to help him, to help all his team, was to keep fighting. He couldn’t look back. He didn’t even get the chance to help him up, or check his pulse, or assure him as passed out from the blood loss. He was frozen in place recalling it all.

He finally pulled himself away from his stance in the snow and quietly walked back up hill. The wind roared as he trudged home, his mind tangled with worry. He focused his eyes on the dim lights of base to keep himself moving. That’s when he tripped.

Heavy didn’t fall often, he was slow and sure footed. The last time he remembered falling down was when he was drunk with his team over a big score and he’d attempted a flip with Scout’s puny hands assisting him. They had matching broken noses that night that his Doktor had chidingly patched up right in the middle of the party.

He pulled himself up from his imprint in the snow and shook off the ice from his pompom hat. From the corner of his eye he saw sparks. He’d tripped over a robot that had been mown down in the fire, it looked as if it had been bashed by Scout and finished off by his own gun. It was a Med bot. Its eyes were dimmed and its limbs scattered. Heavy hated how the bots were designed off their own likenesses; Mr. Grey was a sadistic man to engage in such dishonourable, psychological tactics.

He got up and swept off his pants before checking Sasha for dents. He began to step away when he heard a faint, tinny voice below him,  
“A-a-assistance, bi-bitte!”  
He looked down; the machine didn’t move, but its eyes flashed briefly to life. He had never even noticed their voices over the gunfire and screaming.  
Screaming. The robots screamed. How had he not realised before…? Was Mr. Grey really so evil as to programme these machines for pain so needlessly? Or was it another trick?

“Hel—“  
The voice cut off. The voice was certainly his dear Doktor’s voice. It chilled him to the bone and his mind was made up. Heavy was not a rash man, but he had to do something, and he had to know why a machine would scream. And he couldn’t ignore Medic again.

—

“What in God’s name—?!”  
Heavy clapped a hand over Engie’s mouth, but with his hands being the size of dinner plates he almost knocked him over.  
“Shush. Little man, be quiet please. I can only trust you.”  
Engie pushed Heavy’s hand off his face and looked about the scene in his workshop. The garage shutter door was half open and shaking in the wind, letting snow flurry into the gap. A trail of snow led to a Med Bot slumped over in the corner, sparking at the neck joint and with its left arm missing. It was busted all over and the tire was flat. Heavy must have dragged it all the way back from their position at the bottom of the valley to the workshop. He saw where the machine had been dragged through the snow leaving a long furrow behind Heavy’s massive boot prints. If anything, Engie had to admit how strong Heavy had to be to lug Sasha and a 200lb hunk of junk all the way back uphill.

“Heavy… You have some explaining to do…” He muttered, still baffled by the situation. Heavy crouched beside the robot and gently tried to adjust its head back into the right position.

“Jav-v-v-v-v-vol!” It chirped, its eyes briefly lighting up before buzzing out again.  
“I… vanted to help this Doktor…” He sighed, “Is broken… it vas screaming…”  
Heavy gently placed a hand on Heavy’s back, “Son, I can’t fix this—“  
“NO.” Heavy stood up and yelled, forcibly throwing his hand off his shoulder, ‘We help Doktor! Why would machine scream?! People scream not machine, machine is Doktor, we help him because—because!”  
Heavy panted, his eyes full of fire and confusion. Engie had seen men full of the grief of battle before, so he knew he had to take this slow.

“Heavy. I know you’re trying to do the right thing. I know you want to help. But this is a robot.”  
“I require ass-sis-sis-sis-sis—!” Its voice glitched out again before its fuses burnt out. It quailed a yelp of pain through its monotone voice box.  
Heavy knelt back down, his great big hands hovered in place, not sure how to help it. Engie knelt beside him, dwarfed by his side.

“Why does it scream, Engineer? Can we … make it not hurt?”  
Engineer had taken a few of these damn bots apart, he knew full well that their AI had a crude ‘pain’ program built into them. No other sensation, just a kind of punishment center set to go off if they received damage to their hull.

That Grey Mann was a strange one, cruel to boot. He must have put it in to feel more powerful, or motivate his barely sapient machines, it was nonsensical regardless. He began to think about tinkering with the broken down thing, it wasn’t going to function as a battle bot or a repair bot any more, maybe he could just remove the AI into something else… He sighed again. He could see Heavy taken shuddering breaths below him.

“Heavy… is this about our Medic?”

Heavy stared at the broken machine, now totally silent. He could see him welling up.  
“...You know he’s gonna’ be alright? We got him to the Medibeam in time, he’s out cold but he’ll be just fine. He would’ve re-spawned anyhow—”  
“I couldn’t… leave Doktor behind… not again.”

Engineer let the silence sit uninterrupted for a moment. The snow whistled through the shutters and the broken robot sizzled briefly before going dim once more. He let Heavy weep, slow tears made their way down his stoic face.

Engineer tentatively rubbed Heavy’s back, this time he just sobbed in place. Getting mortally wounded was never an easy thing, whether it was happening to you or a friend, no matter if you respawned, it still took its toll. This job could break the best of men, Dell thought, especially if you just found out you were inflicting pain — even in the crudest sense — where you believed there was none.  
“Heavy. Go and see our Medic. And I’ll … see what I can do.”  
Heavy stood up and wiped his eyes, he took a deep breath and turned to Engie. He gingerly stooped and took him in a hug; it wasn’t the boisterous bear hugs Engie was used to after a big win, simply his big arms loosely wrapping around his neck. Engie smiled and threw his arms around the bigger’s man’s belly, since that was all he could reach.

“Thank you.” Heavy mumbled.  
“Ain’t nothin’. Go on’, git.”

—

It was just Demo and Soldier in the infirmary. They smiled as Heavy walked in, they were either side of the Medic in his reclined examination chair. Soldier was draping a blanket over him and Demo had just taken off his spectacles. Heavy could see their breath fog between the red vapours of the medibeam, it was the chilliest room in the base, after all. It was blisteringly cold, the rattling radiators barely heated the room, making stripped down check-ups and stitches intolerable. But everyone appreciated them, even if Soldier wouldn’t sit still for his shots and Demo hated being lectured about his alcohol intake.

They both gave him some pats on the back before leaving him to sit by Medic’s side on a too-small stool. They of all people knew what kind of bond the two of them had, it was best to let them be alone.  
The beam healed him over soon after he sat down, automatically shutting off when the wound closed and the vitals were steady. But the Doktor always told him the body often needed to fully recover with sleep and rest; it seems he would be unconscious for a while. Heavy didn’t mind, he and Doktor often napped together.

It was two hours or so later when Medic finally awoke. He sat up and pulled the blanket off his chest. Besides him was a cup of hot cocoa on a side table along with his glasses, likely from Pyro from the roasted pink marshmallows on top. He wasn’t fond of sweets, but it was the thought that counted. He was always coddled over by the team when he was badly hurt, it could be slightly embarrassing to an extent, but at least he was appreciated.

To his other side was Heavy, doubled over and snoring in his seat. Medic thought it was adorable, though he must have been severely cold waiting all that time in the chilly room. Poor Heavy, always punishing himself for doing the right thing, he knew his team mate’s propensity for guilt when he was forced to defend instead of help others along. Medic thought that he would have made a splendid medical doctor himself; certainly a more sympathetic Doctor than he was in any case.

He hopped off his examination chair and stretched his arms, he felt as good as new. He took the woollen blanket and tucked it around his dear friend’s shoulders. If he were Scout’s size, he would have attempted to pick him up and lie him down in his chair, but he knew that he couldn’t manage that with Heavy. He fussed around him for a few moments, checking him for external bruises and cuts which he could solve later. From the corner of his eyes he could tell he had been crying, Medic was almost tempted to wake him up to give him the Cocoa as a cheering up gift, before it got cold. But he knew better than to wake a patient.  
He checked the time, goodness, it was well past midnight. The next assault wasn’t predicted until a few days time, so it was time to rest, or at least put his mind to cleaning and minor appointments.

He was thinking about his schedule when there was a knock at the doorway.  
“Oh good, y’all are just fine, wonderful!”  
“Hello Herr Engineer, what brings you to my office at such an hour? I don’t not require a post-mortem, as you can see.” He chuckled to himself, “Many thanks for your prompt rescue, I only wish—- Vait, vhy are you holding a toaster?”  
Engineer paused and opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t quite find the words, “Err, well. It is a mighty long story, Doc’. But I guess its a gift.”  
He held out the silver toaster in front of him for Medic to inspect.  
“Vhat could I possibly vant with a toaster…?”  
Engie sighed with exasperation, he wished Heavy was awake to explain, “Y’remember that time we put a feller’ in a pumpkin?”  
Medic clapped his hands delightedly, “Oh yes, yes! That vas vunderbar.”  
“This is a bit like that. It might scream things when its ready, but it ain’t as, er, ethically compromised as that last incident. I know it’ll make Heavy happy.”

Medic beamed and took it into his arms, “Vell, that’s all I care about.”  
“You gonna’ wake him up and tell him the good news…?” Engie laughed.  
Medic looked over his shoulder at his sleeping friend. Peaceful as could be in his little stool. They had all been through so much this night, and he wasn’t going to distress him any further. Not until he’s gotten a good eight hours, atleast. “Oh no, mein freund, you must always let someone who is healing have his rest…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to write this on Bluetooth keyboard from my phone so the editing might be rubbish.
> 
> Thanks to my bestie for giving this a going over before I posted this x


	6. Scout & Spy & Pyro — Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weary battle ends, spy had to disarm a bomb that was close to destroying their base. Pyro decides to relieve the tension with a bonfire.  
> For JackyVegas x

Spy’s hands were still shaking. He tried to play it off as a result of the cold while he smoked by the back door. He took deep breaths as he sunk his back against the wall; today was a close call, too close, he wasn’t used to having the fate of the team rely on him. He preferred cloaking and pretending to work solo, occasionally being saved by Pyro’s flames or baiting people into the path of the Engineer’s machines.

Snow flecked the twilight, flitting gently past his face. He took a long draw from the cigarillo. He tried to push the image of tangled wires coiled in his numb fingers as the team loomed over his shoulders. The bomb had been disarmed, but it had taken a heartbeat or two longer than anyone could cope with enduring. There’d been cheering and whooping when he’d cut the wires, sweat pouring down his back and ruining his linen shirt, but he hardly felt celebratory. It was strange to be applauded by the same team who jokingly jeered at him, the spy, the snake.

He exhaled a plume of smoke from his nose. That wasn’t what was bothering him. It was Scout. Scout had frozen during the disarming and he still looked shocked after the danger was clear. A damnable part of him wanted to hug the poor boy, yet he knew that would make it worse. Scout loathed him, that or he saw him as weak, or treacherous, or simply an easy target. He liked to think he could read people, see through them and pinpoint their needs and desires. But he didn’t know Scout. He didn’t know his son.

He was interrupted by Heavy stomping from the workshop out into the evening snow, followed behind by Medic and Scout. They had bundles of twigs in their arms, Heavy had a stack of logs on his broad back.  
“Come along, Herr Spy, zhis bonfire needs more fuel.” Medic said playfully, “Just because you saved the team today doesn’t mean you can slack off.”  
Spy raised an eyebrow, “I was not aware we were having one…”  
“It vas dear little Pyro’s idea, of course, and I think we could all use some beer and warmth after today’s fiasco. Take some paper and twigs from the log shed, zhere’s a good man.” Medic waved him off and followed Heavy downhill towards the ruined cabin. Scout didn’t say a word.

He sighed and walked back inside the workshop and took a bundle of kindling and old newspapers under each arm, keenly aware it might stain his suit if he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t quite in the mood for a soirez, but it was better than sulking alone. It may provide a distraction before he slipped off to bed.

He arrived to see Pyro busying himself around a fire pit lined with stones. Spy was always amused by his fussy, endearing habits when cooking or tidying, but he seemed especially enthused about building a bonfire. He practically skipped over with a hum as he took the kindling out of his arms and started to stuff and lay it about the base of the fire pit. Spy thought he looked like a mother hen building a nest.

Heavy dragged two huge logs to act as benches around the pit Engineer was tugging open a bag of over-sized marshmallows. Demo arrived with a mixed crate of cheap beers and whisky. Everyone began to settle as the night truly set in and Pyro began feverishly lighting the fire. He gently touched the pilot light of his flamethrower to the paper and twigs, he didn’t want to torch the remains of the cabin down after all. He then began layering logs and branches on top of the smouldering beginnings of the fire. Spy couldn’t help but be impressed by the methodical workings of the Pyromaniac, after all, he was somewhat worried that this would all end in an inferno…

Soon the heat started to rush out and warm his face, he stared into the flames to watch twigs curl up and turn to ash, ember glow and sparks fizzle and fly up into the black amongst the snow. He let his mind drift as the flames melded into colours and shapes, it was… soothing somehow.  
Pyro plopped himself down next to him and brandished a marshmallow on a stick. 

Spy was still half-awake from his accidental meditation and blinked at the stick. Pyro tilted his head before moving to open up Spy’s hand and clasp it around the stick, he then guided it to the edge of the fire to let it roast. Spy looked from the stick to Pyro, speechless but wondering whether he was doing it right. Pyro gave him a little clap and put a beer in his other hand, content that Spy had been looked after properly.

Spy permitted himself a small laugh, he wasn’t sure he was going to enjoy caramelised marshmallows, they looked… sticky. But it seemed rude to decline at this point, besides, it was another thing with which to be mesmerised. The powdered surface turned from pale, to brown and then charred slightly at the edge. Sniper was next to him and helped him rescue it from being totally burnt, and warned him about putting it straight in his mouth. 

It wasn’t quite to his taste, but he felt his needed something sweet and filling to recover. Engineer started to strum on his guitar, and Demo joined in, revealing a tuneful, passionate voice. One that started to slurr as the night went on, yet nonetheless admirable. Soldier decided to join in regardless of whether he knew the lyrics, before challenging no one in particular to a game of chubby bunny. Sniper was telling embellished stories of hunting in the bush, and Heavy was trying to top them as Medic sat on his lap and cuddled into his side. 

Scout was on the floor, sitting on an extra coat crossed legged and turned away. He was smoking. Scout never smoked. When he first joined the team three years back, he tried to act the part of a tough mercenary before lapsing into a coughing fit and promptly vomiting. Then he started to tell people it would ruin his edge as an athlete in his prime, a claim that was technically true if you agreed that smashing people’s heads in with a bat was a sport. 

But here he was half way through a hand rolled cigarette. Spy felt a pang of pride and quickly squashed it. Smoking was terrible for you, and in any case, however he felt he shouldn’t have influence over the boy’s decisions.  
He felt his hands quiver and his stomach knot. He turned away, looked into the fire and tried to regain his calm. By the time he looked back, Scout was gone. 

He looked around. He hadn’t moved positions in the ring. He was simply gone. He hadn’t heard his loud, grating voice all night. He had been silent. Something was wrong and Spy was too dense to know what it could be. He cursed himself.

It was getting late and the fire was dying, Engineer played on but a few folks had started to wander back to the base, wobbling through the ankle deep snow. Heavy waved goodbye with a very tipsy Medic on his back, Sniper and Demo were tasked with escorting Soldier back to base without any disasters in between.

As they each left Spy opened his mouth to ask where Scout had gone, but stopped himself, like a fool. As Engineer saluted them, giving a little grin to Pyro, and started to walk back he tried a third time before he heard a voice.  
“Scout went for a walk. He told me so an hour or so back. He’s all good, just needs some time alone, I think.”  
Spy almost shrieked. Pyro was roasting one of the last marshmallows by his side, holding it just above the embers. His mask was propped up on the log besides him. He smiled and gave a little wave.

“Mon dieu.” He said under his breath.  
Pyro had golden brown skin and black tufted hair; he was somewhat chubby but had a charming nose and a finely cut jaw. His eyes were almost black and puppy-like. He looked alien with his head popping out of the padded suit. He was young, in his mid-twenties or so.  
“Hi.” He said again, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted a chance to eat marshmallows and I’m kinda shy about taking it off in front of the whole team. You get it, right, man?” He popped a marshmallow in his mouth and shrugged.

His accent was Latin American, tinged with a slight American accent. From his training he could pin-point it as Mexican, specifically as from somewhere near Guadalajara. He hadn’t expected that. He had to admit he’d picture something between a doting house wife and a hardened, sadistic convict.  
He cleared his throat, “Nice to meet your acquaintance…”  
Pyro nodded and took his hand in a firm grip of his thick gloves.

They were silent for a while as Pyro chomped through the remaining marshmallows, and Spy silently studied his face. Pyro gulped down his sixth wad of gooey marshmallow and wiped his face with his sleeve.  
“So you worried about Scout?”  
Spy snapped himself out of his stupor before drawing himself up and lighting another cigarette, “He’s none of my concern.”  
“Yeah, but you’re still worried, right? You kept staring at him the whole time, and you were looking into the flames real deeply. People do that when they’re stressed, yknow? He was doing it, too. So I thought I better ask.”  
Spy paused as he took his first puff, “You’re very perceptive.”  
“Did you guys have a fight?” He asked, tilting his head.  
“Not yet…” He sighed.

Pyro stuck two more marshmallows on two sticks and passed one along to Spy, “Tell me about it, man. You ain’t got nothing to hide from me.”  
“I suppose not.” He gave him a half smile.  
He watched the marshmallow melt and brown on the stick for a moment before he spoke.  
“Speaking in confidence, Scout is… Scout is my son. His mother and I separated some time ago, before I could raise him.”  
“Rough for both of you.” Pyro said, leaning back with his boots crossed.  
“He doesn’t know.”  
“Ouch.”  
“Yes, quite. I don’t wish to burden his life with this information, I feel this would strain things at this point, but I feel some sort of responsibility for him, if you will.” Spy narrowed his eyes at the pulsing embers in the ashes, “I know something is wrong, and I have a feeling it had something to do with my performance today disarming that bomb. I pride myself on my ability to navigate the intricacies of relationships, but I find myself at an impasse.”  
“Why don’t you just ask him? He’s out jogging, probably, you could track him down and bring him out the cold.” He pulled the marshmallow off the end of the stick with his teeth, “You did great with the bomb, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Whilst I do not know much, I do know he hates me. He’s rather fond of calling me a ‘backstabber’...”  
“I mean he probably would like you more if you talked to him, I mean, I don’t know the specifics but we all joke around here, you call me an abomination, and thank god you can’t hear what I say about you, eh?”  
Spy flicked his eyes up and down the innocent face of Pyro and became flushed with embarrassment, “I … apologise.”  
“S’kay. You’re marshmallow’s burning.”  
Spy panicked, the end of the stick was aflame, he tried to shake it off to no avail. Pyro leaned forward and blew it out.

“See? No harm done.” Pyro said and patted him on the back. He might be short but his hands were huge, Spy felt strangely warmed by it.  
Spy laughed nervously; he tried to angle the stick near his mouth to take small, dignified bites, but it proved challenging. It was going to ruin his mask if he wasn’t careful.

He thought for a moment before making his mind up. He stuck the stick in the snow and pulled off the mask.  
Adjusting his tie and smoothing out his pomaded hair, “I hope this can somewhat make up for calling you such a foul name…”  
He had salt and pepper hair coiffed into a crisp wave cut short at the sides, his face was romanesque, with soaring cheekbones and a chiseled cleft chin. He had a small impeccably groomed moustache.  
“You didn’t have to do that, but that means a lot, thanks.” Pyro said, patting him on the shoulder once again, “Now we’re mask brothers, no going back now.”  
“I suppose not,” he chuckled.

“Well. I can’t really give any fatherly advice, I’m more of a mom-type of guy, yknow? But I think I have a bunch of little brothers—“  
“Pardon?” Spy interjected, confused about everything he had just heard.  
“Its a long story, but I don’t really remember much about like, anything, before I came here.” Pyro gestured, ignoring the confusion on the first part of his spiel, “But I do remember having some little brothers. I mean maybe they were my kids, I’m not sure. Anyway. I remember one time, I was with one of them, and he was all kinds of sad about something, I don’t remember what, but I took him for a walk around our neighborhood and he just started talking without asking. Sometimes you just gotta’ let people know you can trust you, they’ll do what they want with that, so at least its on their terms…I guess, I dunno’. Kids are weird.”

“They certainly are…” Spy muttered, realising he likely knew even less about everyone around him than he thought after hearing those revelations from Pyro, “I shall try to talk to him… or at least let him know he can speak with me.”  
“And hey take a marshmallow. Kids love sweets, man.”  
Spy nodded slowly as Pyro passed him the last marshmallow.

—

“Are you enjoying the night air?” Spy asked as he approached Scout. He was bent double some way into the woods, Spy had tracked him like an animal on his third lap through the snow. He looked red from the wind and snotty-nosed from the cold. He wore nothing but his “mother’s” scarf, a beanie under his cap and a thin hoodie above his usual attire. It was like he wanted to catch hypothermia.  
“Go—to hell.” Scout panted, huffing great clouds of vapours as he rested.  
“I just wanted to check on you. Its late.”

“Yeah. I know.”  
There was no cutting comeback, or elaborate insult. Scout looked down and jogged on the spot, readying himself for another lap.  
Spy hesitated. He knew he should just leave, or tell him he’d be in the base if he needed him, but it didn’t feel enough.  
“Wait is that your face?” Scout stared back at him.  
Spy could have slapped himself. He’d forgotten his mask back at the bonfire. He’d left Pyro to enjoy the dying embers and abandoned it beside him. He had many more back at the base but he’d have to walk back to retrieve it. It wasn’t an issue for his team to identify him, but he preferred to have the anonymity. Especially around Scout if he ever decided to wade through old family photo albums...  
“Ugh, yes. Yes it is.” He groaned.  
“Huh.” Scout walked around him, squinting at him, “You look like a regular dude. I mean an old ass crusty dude, but you’re for real.”

Spy wasn’t quite sure what that meant but he decided to cautiously take it as a compliment, “Thank you…?”  
“I mean like, you look like you’re gonna tie a chick to some train tracks with that moustache a’yours, but uhh… good to see ya’.”  
Spy rolled his eyes, “This confirms I am in fact human, I suppose.”  
“Yeah!” Scout laughed. That was a good sign.

“You seem in a better mood, perhaps I should take it off more often.”  
“Yeah, well,” Scout took a deep breath and stared up at the sky, watching the tiny flakes come down, “Its been a hell of a day.”  
“It has.”  
Scout started walking slowly, Spy had slightly lost his bearings so he was not sure in which direction, but it didn’t matter. It was quite some time before Scout spoke again.  
“I thought I was gonna’ die today.”

The words hung in the air. Spy frowned and nodded.  
“As did I.”  
“We can’t die here. Or at least, we have to try pretty hard to like, y’know, die die.” Scout said, hands in his pockets and looking at his shoes, “But I don’t like dyin’. And when I saw that bomb that close to the base, I was like, I’m outta’ here. But I was stuck watchin’ ya disarm that thing, and every time you slipped, I just feel cold. Like from the inside. It was… bad.”  
Spy hummed, “I am sorry I wasn’t more capable.”  
Scout was quiet for a moment, “Its fine, you had like a bajillion robots you just killed and like eight dudes hangin’ over your shoulder. Just… I dunno’ man, you always seem so confident, so when I saw you sweatin’ I was like, woah, this is for real.”

Spy felt something twinge in his chest, it was almost hard to breathe through what he was feeling.  
“I am employed to look confident.” He stated, “I am, however, constantly, how do you say, scared shitless…?”  
Scout snorted and laughed as Spy hoped he would.  
“This job is not for ordinary men. The fact we cope at all is a miracle. Hold on to your fear, it makes you, as you would say, ‘for real.’”  
Scout smiled, looking at his sneakers again. He’d lead them all the way out of the pine woods on a trail back up towards the base.  
“I get’cha.”  
“We will make it out of this, fear intact, god willing.” He murmured, he then cleared his throat and spoke up, “Just don’t smoke, you imbecile. Where did you even get that cheap Tabasco? You smell like a common urchin.”  
“Hey, hey! I swiped it from Soldier, he don’t even use it. And shut up, I got it from you, you hippo-crate!” Scout punched him in the shoulder and ran ahead.

“If you’re going to smoke, do it with class, boy!” He shouted, shaking his fist mockingly.  
“Yeah, yeah, frenchy. See ya’ on the field. Try not to eat my dust next time.”  
Scout became silhouetted by the lights outside the base as he sprinted up the slope. He slipped inside and slammed the door as he always did.  
He smiled to himself and followed his footprints in his own time. He looked back down to the distant cabin with the last of the waning fire and then slipped away to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did these get so intense?? I think it’s cos I’m kinda stressed and writing through these characters helps lol
> 
> Maskless Pyro Head canon from my fic Meet The Handsome Pyro returns. A bit more of his history is revealed. Him and Dell aren’t together in this one... yet.


	7. Body heat -- Engineer & Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's better than this? Sharing platonic body heat. Guys being dudes.

Body Heat

A sliver of light squeezed through the frail curtains. It cut through the room across the rumpled bedsheets to the floorboards where Dell could see the dust suspended in the cold morning air. He followed the thin crack of light as it spilt over his knees, and of course, Jane’s knees cuddled in the crook of his own.

He’d almost forgotten Soldier had joined him last night. He’d insisted that he supervise Dell as a bed-buddy after a surprise room inspection. Room inspections were Jane’s by-word for kicking in your door at midnight. The Engineer didn’t mind them that much, but Soldier did make him jump when he burst through the door in his star-spangled pyjamas. Still in his helmet, of course.

Jane had interrogated him about his pathetic, meagre bed clothes, and how could he possibly sleep through the chill without a proper blanket?! Of course, everyone knew the Engineer often crashed over in the Pyro’s den in the basement near the boiler room. It was toasty down there, but no one else fancied sharing with the Pyro. The Team had given up any pretense of bravado in the cold; everyone shacked up with each other to avoid shivering in their sleep.

Instead of joining Pyro, however, Dell had wanted to work a few more hours on the stolen schematics Spy had liberated from Grey’s HQ. He was up late jotting down notes on new improvements and changes on the robots. So, Pyro had gone to bed early with a big glass of milk and some ducky slippers. He was likely still wrapped around his big stuffed unicorn, nuzzling into the mane over and over in one of his endearing habits.

And so when this was explained to Jane he had marched over to the bed, nestled himself in and gave Dell the order to halt his work until the next morning. He was going to enjoy his ceasefire lie-in warm and snuggly, that was an order from his superior!

Dell had yawned, too tired to give anything more than a chuckle. He’d swept his stationary aside on his deck and switched the lamped off. He had wriggled into his own under shirt and plaid pants as he listened to the wind whistle past the single pane windows, the flurry of snow pattered on the glass. Tonight was a blizzard, so the bots' weren't getting through any time soon until it cleared tomorrow night. He shouldn't protest the extra-warmth, even if it was going to interrupt his plans for the evening. He’d pinched off his goggles which had left red rings about his exhausted eyes. He'd left them on for hours, scouring over the blueprints until all he could see was navy and white. He slipped into bed, expecting to sleep back to back with Jane, according to his policy of no funny business.

He was dead wrong. Soldier had tussled for a good two minutes around him to get comfortable and had ended up spooning him. When he was finally in position he did one of his classic affirmative grunts and Dell could relax. After that, he didn’t remember much. He’d mumbled that Jane should take his helmet off, the straps were hitting his face. Which he'd done, begrudgingly. Then he just melted into the warmth of his friend who had slung his arms around his waist and held fast the whole night.

He’d woken up to feel the bristles of Jane’s chin against his head. Jane was only a head or so taller, but he used it to his advantage against him, usually it was in horseplay, but this time he’d totally enveloped him in a cuddle. The Soldier was snoring, deep, gentle breaths flowed over the top of his head. His arms were firm against his belly and he felt mighty safe.  
Dell wanted to sink back into slumber; he wanted to shut his eyes and forget about robots, blueprints and watery coffee until his alarm went off. Jane was right, he ought to savour the lie-ins when they came, because they didn’t come often and he knew pulling all-nighters wasn’t gonna’ help the team get the intel they needed any faster if he got no sleep. The only problem was that damn curtain. It fluttered lightly in the draught, and the light was creeping into his eyes. 

Dell sighed and heaved himself up. Jane flopped down on the mattress springs, but still had his arms around him, seemingly unbothered by his movement.  
“You don’t have to cling to me so tight, pardner’.” Dell murmured, patting him gently on the head as he let out another rattling snore.  
He shimmied and scooted in place to try and reach the curtain without displacing his friend. Finally he dragged the curtain to and huffed, letting himself fall back down next to Jane.

Jane awoke for three seconds to grumble about manning the stations and capping the point, before he shifted once more. He pawed Dell onto his back and then dumped himself on the Engineer’s chest. Dell wheezed, Jane wasn’t a light-weight by any means, he had him solidly pinned. He coughed out a chuckle and stroked Jane’s buzzcut as he began to snore once more. Well, now he had no choice but to get some shut-eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write one like this with Scout n Sniper if anyone shows interest.
> 
> Still working on requests for this one, taking my time as december is a busy month for work and my fatigue is a real bastard.


End file.
